The Respite
by Pferdlover
Summary: When Clarice returns home after a bad day the Good Doctor is there to listen. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1 Revised

**_I finally managed to finish editing this. Sorry for the delay in posting, with finals, relatives and the holidays finding time to write has been a nightmare. I hope you all enjoy the chapter, chapter two is currently under construction and I will post it ASAP. Thanks for sticking with me! ~Pferdlover_**

_Oh? You think I created these guys? Ha, funny. Seriously though all characters belong to Thomas Harris and are used without permission, no copyright infringment. Sue me and you'll get a cat who steals clothing. _

**Chapter One (Revised)**

Dr. Hannibal Lecter, cannibal and serial killer, reposed eloquently in a faded arm chair, his hands steepled beneath his chin, waiting patiently for the return of Clarice Starling. Nearly five years had passed since their last meeting, during which time he had immersed himself in the elegance of Europe. However even the beauty of his favorite cities did little to stifle his fascination with the young agent. As the months passed the urge to contact her became more pronounced and he began to grow restless, memories of their encounters plagued him relentlessly; serving to frustrate him further. With her eventual removal from the limelight, keeping tabs through the media became impossible and he was soon left without options. By this time five years had passed and his renowned patience was at an end. His decision made he had immediately booked a flight to Arlington; eagerly anticipating the renewal of their relationship. After checking into one of the nicer hotels in the area he had quickly ascertained her address, thanks to a cursory glance of the white pages. The days following were spent observing her daily habits and work schedule. After a week of diligent surveillance he made his move.

Having disregarded the small obstacle of a locked door, Dr. Lecter had wasted no time in entering and making himself at home. A quick tour of the house had allowed him to map out several potential escape routes; her capriciousness necessitated caution. Grimacing in distaste, Dr. Lecter glanced about the room, disdainfully noting the worn furniture and lackluster décor. It seemed that the salary of a FBI agent didn't allow for the basic upkeep of a home, at least, not to his standards. He rose gracefully from his seat and ran his fingers over the couch, easily imagining Clarice sprawling atop it, book in hand. As he made his way over to the dilapidated fireplace to examine several faded photographs on the mantle, his ears registered the rather harsh slamming of a car door. Judging by the sound, she was agitated about something. Grinning wolfishly he resumed his position in the armchair and once again waited.

Clarice Starling was furious; she stood, glaring at her car's door, as if it was somehow to be blamed for the sorry state of the day. Unfortunately the scrap of metal that was now enduring her scowling gaze was not the cause. No, the blame fell squarely upon the shoulders of Paul Krendler, the constant thorn in her side. Krendler had decided to ruin what she had hoped to be a quiet, relaxing evening, and all with a simple touch. As she had passed Krendler in the hallway, on the way to her beloved mustang, he had reached out and slapped her ass. Clarice, who had been dealing with a rather unruly witness, snapped, whipping around and smashing the smug bastard in the face. Krendler cradling his wounded jaw had stared disbelieving at the infuriated woman that glared over him before suddenly breaking into a smile.

"You'll pay for that…" he had crowed "Hitting me is gonna get your pretty little ass fired." Clarice, not wavering in her righteous fury, had turned, ignoring him as he shouted insults and threats after her and continued to the parking lot. Not ten minutes after her departure, a very angry Director Noonan had called, informing her of a three week suspension. She hadn't even bothered to defend herself, knowing that any explanation would be immediately discredited. Jolting herself out of her reverie she, still seething, made her way to the front door, grumbling curses under her breath. In her anger she failed to notice that the door was unlocked.

"One of these days," she whispered heatedly "I'm going to do more than punch that conceited little shit."

"Tough day Clarice?" Dr. Lecter drawled from the shadows. She whirled to face him, gun at the ready.

Dr. Lecter sighed at the sight of the weapon, "Now is that any way to treat a guest? I had hoped to have a conversation without the presence of firearms, but it seems you are bent on making this difficult. "At this he took a menacing step forward. Determined not to be intimidated Clarice stayed where she was

"Well seeing as my 'guest' is a wanted criminal who broke into my house for reasons unknown, I think an exception can be made."

"Still as quick as always I see; have you been practicing?" She shrugged, her gaze never wavering from his

"Being able to think on your feet tends to keep you alive in my line of work."

"Indeed, an FBI agent can never be too careful. One never knows what sort of nasty characters are out there." He grinned, his small white teeth a stark contrast to the dark. She broke eye contact to cast a glance at the nearby phone

"I wouldn't bother my dear; I took the liberty of disconnecting your various methods of communication. Surely you don't mind?" Jaw clenched in anger, her mind spun, frantically looking for a solution. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction rushed forward, knocking the gun from her grasp and slamming her into the wall. She fought, kicking out and arching her body against his in a futile attempt at freedom. Her FBI training had toned her body but she was no match for his natural strength, allowing him to easily overpower her.

"Now then," he breathed "Seeing as you are without your gun I think you will find it best to cooperate hmm?" She huffed petulantly but ceased struggling, "Good girl, can I let you go now or will I have to tie you up?"

"Bondage Doctor? Something you picked up in your travels?"He quirked a brow, eyes dancing

"Was that an invitation Clarice?" She swallowed and looked away "No? Pity, we could have had some fun." Releasing her he stepped away, all the while making sure to stay between her and the discarded gun.

Sighing she rubbed the tense muscles in her neck, "Why are you here ? You said in your letter that you had no plans to call on me."

"I do recall saying something of the sort; forgive me if I was unclear. I simply meant that I had no plans to do you harm, which remains true." Some of her tension receded at his statement although he could see she remained wary. "Why don't you join me in the kitchen? You can tell me about your day…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**_I suck, I know. I got really stuck on this chapter and began to nitpick every little word. I ended up getting frustrated and contemplated the idea of giving the story up. Thankfully that didn't happen, I rewatched my favorite movies (Red Dragon, Silence of the Lambs and Hannibal) and fell in love all over again, I took another shot at writing the second chapter and managed to come up with something halfway decent. Writing when you are your own worst critic is a pain, I second guess everything which makes it hard for me to finish chapters. Please know that I will try my hardest to complete this story but if school/stress/life in general interferes I just want to thank anyone who gave this story a chance. Thanks again to all of you who reviewed!_**

Frightened and confused by the situation, Starling was rather embarrassed to find her eyes pricking with angry tears. '_Great, just fucking great Starling, let's show some weakness for him to pick at. Brilliant! Okay… Get a hold of yourself. Just go along with it, don't be rude and maybe you'll get through this alive.'_ had not changed his position, remaining firmly in front of her gun.

"After you, my dear." He motioned with his hand toward the kitchen, his eyes daring her to disobey. She hesitated, not liking the idea of having the doctor behind her. Sensing her tension the doctor huffed a breath

"Your lack of trust is beginning to grow tiresome Clarice. I give you my word that I will not harm you unless you give me very good reason to." Eying him warily she nodded and quickly made her way into the small kitchen. The doctor followed, taking a seat at the counter. Moving to one of the various kitchen cupboards, she removed a glass and half empty bottle of Jameson. The doctor lips twitched in subtle amusement

"It must have been quite a day." he teased, Clarice snorted derisively but made no response, choosing instead to pour herself a generous glass. She jumped slightly as he rose not moving as he reached around her, taking the glass from her trembling hands. "Hmm… You will ruin your liver with such a vulgar drink." The heady aroma of his cologne assailed her senses and she had to fight not to release a shuddering breath, although butterflies swam in her belly. She eyed the amber drink now clutched in his hand before raising her eyes to glare into his.

"Can I please have my drink back Doctor? If you expect me to tell you about my day I'm going to need something strong." He placed the glass on the counter, out of her reach

"Is it only recently that you have become an alcoholic? Or have you always turned to drinking to solve your problems?" The accusation stung, especially from the Doctor, but she kept her expression impassive.

"My day has been shit and I'm tired . If you feel the need to label my frustrations as alcoholism, be my guest." He studied her for a minute before speaking

"Very well Clarice. Let us make a compromise, if you still feel the need for a drink after you tell me about your day, I will withdraw my previous statement and apologize. But only after you tell me about your day. Do we have a deal?"

"No." His brows rose at her tenacity but he did not comment. Even when she moved around him and retrieved the glass of alcohol he said nothing. Eye's dancing she raised the glass to her lips, before turning and dumping the alcohol into the sink. She rinsed the glass and placed it back into the cupboard, before facing the .

"I don't need your permission to have a drink Doctor. I'm not some child you can order about, if you want to share your opinions on the matter I'll listen but you will not make decisions for me. If I wanted that sort of crap, I would have stayed at work."

The Doctor studied her for a moment before speaking "I am well aware that you are no child Clarice." Her breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, the moment was broken as he turned to take a seat at the nearby table. Cursing herself for her reaction she followed his example. She began with little hesitation

"I was interviewing witnesses for a recent case, trying to find out concrete details we could use; most of them were courteous and helpful. It wasn't until the last witness that I had any trouble. I began to get frustrated when he demanded payment for his information becoming obstinate and confrontational. When we finally got him to tell his story he kept changing it. By the time I was done, my day was over and I was in a very bad mood. As I was making my way to my car I passed my co-worker Paul Krendler, I believe you met him in Memphis." nodded, but refrained from commenting. "Anyways," Clarice scowled, her hands fisting in anger "As I passed him by he reached out and smacked my ass," stiffened slightly, keeping rigid control of his ire, the only indication being the slight tightening of his hands. Clarice, face turned towards the kitchen window smiled, "Normally it's easy for me to deal with his crap, but he's never actually made physical contact. I just lost control; I whipped around and socked that miserable bastard in the jaw." His anger diminishing somewhat chuckled

"I can imagine his shock at being bested at what he no doubt believed to be a fragile young miss." Sneering Clarice flexed her hand, still refusing to meet 's gaze.

"He was groaning on the floor when I turned to leave. Eventually he recovered enough to shout a couple threats and insults." Dr. Lecter's maroon eyes darkened dangerously, appearing eerily like congealed blood.

"He threatened you?"

Clarice looked over, inwardly shivering at his reaction, he really was magnificent; she shrugged "Not with physical harm, just the loss of my job. He might have thrown in some insults about my background but I wasn't really paying attention. A little while later as I drove home I received a phone call from a very irate boss, who gleefully informed me that I have been suspended without pay for three weeks." Mollified by the news of her suspension, Dr. Lecter turned away from his murderous thoughts, choosing instead to occupy himself by mapping out the delightful possibilities that the suspension presented. It was the perfect solution; Clarice had, unknowingly, given him the very opportunity he had been looking for.

"It's quite obvious to me my dear." Dr. Lecter said, making sure to keep his face devoid of any emotion.

"What is?"

"You need a lengthy respite, three week's should suffice. A vacation will allow you to escape from the stress of your job and exasperating co-workers." Dr. Lecter had to fight from rubbing his hands together in glee. Clarice looked at him skeptically

"I understand your reasoning Doctor but won't a vacation send the wrong message? I mean I don't want to look like I'm slinking off with my tail between my legs."

"On the contrary Clarice, you will portray yourself as a self sufficient woman who doesn't require the security that the FBI believes they provide." Clarice had to admit that it would be rather fun to shove her suspension in her bosses' faces.

"I guess I could take a little vacation, but I don't know if I can afford three weeks." He smiled, shooting a fissure of excited energy up her spine.

"You need not bother, my dear. Seeing as I am accompanying you on this trip I will gladly be taking care of any and all expenses."

**_Hope you approve! I will began work on chapter three as soon as I am able and will try to be more prompt with posting. If you have any ideas on how you think the story could improve PLEASE don't hesitate to let me know. I love love love, getting input from readers, even if it is criticism. Thanks again! ~Pferdlover_  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_**This chapter is shorter than I would have like but the conversation gets kinda deep, which is really hard for me to write. Hopefully it will tide you over until I can get chapter four up. I wracked my brain for a way to extend the chapter and wrote and reworded alot but nothing really fit so I decided to roll with it. Let me know what you think. I'm trying to post more often but like I've said before life's crazy. Anyways enough of my babbling, read on!**  
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Clarice was one of the few people that had the ability to surprise him, a trait he both admired and despaired of. Therefore it was only reasonable to take every opportunity to return the favor; as illustrated by his abrupt announcement to accompany her. He watched in delighted amusement, as her brain processed what he had said, the subsequent understanding bloomed on her face in a mask of incredulity.

"Please tell me you're joking."

"I assure you, I am quite serious. It was obvious to me the minute you stormed through that door; you're tired Clarice, I can see it in your eyes, in the way you walk. Even after rescuing Catherine Martin the lambs still scream and the fame you acquired lasted as only as long as the last printing of the newspapers. You sit at your desk, day after day, in the dreary halls of the FBI, waiting for any assignment to come your way. Petty insults and whispers are endured because you keep telling yourself that it will get better in time, eventually you will catch a break. I can tell you now Clarice that what happened tonight with was no coincidence, it was the breaking point and it released the anger you have held inside all these years. In doing so you provided the very thing your superiors had been searching for, they dropped you without a second thought. How does it feel Clarice, to know that you mean so little to them, those people you despise almost as much as they despise you?" He did not falter, watching with little emotion as her face darkened with anger and pain.

"Damn you."

"Hmm, yes damn me Clarice. The truth is painful is it not? You curse me for making you face the truth you stubbornly refused to acknowledge, yet my words are no less true." Her cool blue eyes shone with unshed tears, clouded with pain and confusion. She glared openly for several moments more before she sighed wearily in defeat,

"I've tried so hard to hate you, to blame you for everything that's happened. I've relived every conversation we've had, experienced all the anger and pain and embarrassment I felt standing in front of you in that basement, and I still couldn't hate you." She paused, hands fisting in her lap

"Do you know what that's like? To realize that the one person who really saw me, was a man responsible for killing and EATING at least fourteen people? I thought that if I saved Catherine Martin that I could move on and act like none of it had happened. I would get the job of my dreams and I would be able to sleep at night," her jaw hardened "but you were right, killing Gumb didn't get me anywhere, the lambs still screamed and instead of being celebrated, I was shunned for my success. managed to find odd jobs for me now and then, but his influence could only reach so far. You ask me how it feels? It burn's , and I hate it, but I push past it because every time I can tell a mother or father that I helped catch the sonofabitch responsible for the death of their child it makes me feel like I've done something meaningful. Even Paul Krendler can't take that from me."

'_Interesting. Even after being treated so poorly, her loyalty to the lambs remains.'_

He moved his gaze to her face, noting with disapproval the dark circles under her eyes. She needed sleep, away from the emotional turmoil she constantly faced at work but he could do little without her fidgeted slightly under his gaze but did not break eye contact,

"You claim that you stay with the FBI in order to provide yourself with a sense of purpose. Yet the same result could be achieved just as easily if you were a social worker, or a volunteer at a local soup kitchen. Why is that? Shall I tell you? Or will you be strong enough to face the truth that even now, you shy away from. It is your move Clarice."


End file.
